


See No Evil

by xfitzwellsx



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Sexual Tension, mild depictions of violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:48:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22708003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xfitzwellsx/pseuds/xfitzwellsx
Summary: The Gryffindor could barely hear anything going on around her; the only sound resonating was that of her captors maniacal laughter, along with the few hushed voices that filled the room. Eventual Bellamione. Post Hogwarts Battle. Rated M for later chapters. Also on FF.net.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Bellatrix Black Lestrange
Comments: 4
Kudos: 64





	1. Chapter 1

The pain was unbearable. She didn't even have the strength to cry out in pain, every muscle felt as if it were being attacked by thousands of bolts of electricity with every move that she made. She could feel hot tears racing down her cheeks as she writhed around on the floor, doused in her own sweat, blood, and tears.

The Gryffindor could barely hear anything going on around her; the only sound resonating was that of her captors maniacal laughter, along with the few hushed voices that filled the room. As soon as it had begun, it was over. The relief from the pain caused strangled sobs to escape her throat, and Hermione didn't have the courage to even open her eyes.

It had been hours since the battle had ended. It was a victory and a loss all in the same time. The image of Alecto Carrow taking the life out of Ron as he attempted to cast his first Avada Kedavra replayed in Hermione's head over and over again, as if she didn't believe that it had actually happened. As if she could bring him back to life. Harry and Voldemort had battled it out, and eventually Voldemort did fall. But so did Harry. Hermione wasn't sure where they had taken him; or even if he was still alive.

Her insides felt numb-it wasn't fair that she was alive. She suddenly found herself feeling guilty about it all, as if it were her fault Ron had died, or that Harry had collapsed a moment after Voldemort. And then suddenly she had been grabbed, and all within a few minutes, had been under the Cruciatus Curse of Bellatrix Lestrange. And it went on for hours.

"Is she dead?" A voice asked, but it was so far off that she could barely register it.

"Of course not, you nit." Another voice snapped, and this one Hermione recognized. It sent a jolt of fear down her spine, and her eyes snapped open to be greeted with the wide, onyx eyes of none other than Bellatrix Lestrange.

The woman hung over her body, blood smeared down her cheek, her hot breath clouding Hermione's lungs. The younger woman couldn't move a muscle, paralyzed by fear or physical limitation, she didn't know.

She wanted to spit in her face.

She wanted to curse her, to send her far, far away, to just punch her in her beautiful, marble face.

What?

"She's not movin', Lestrange." The same voice from before stated, a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

"Would you shut up!" Bellatrix barked, turning away from Hermione, her wand pointed at the man in question. Hermione followed the direction of the wand, and saw that it was Travers, a snatcher whom Hermione recognized.

In a split second, Bellatrix had turned back to Hermione, her nose pressed up against the girls cheek. Her eyes were wild with rage, and her body shook with an insanity that far surpassed any previous outbursts the witch had had.

"Where is he?" Bellatrix hissed, her wand sticking into Hermione's other cheek threateningly. A whimper escaped the girl, who shut her eyes tightly, as if it would make the entire situation go away. Bellatrix chuckled darkly, jutting out her full bottom lip in a faux pout. "Oh, don't cry, mudblood." She cooed, petting Hermione's hair down roughly. "Where is he?!" She bellowed, this time grabbing a handful of Hermione's light hair and giving it a harsh tug, causing Hermione to cry out in pain. She felt as if she might pass out at any moment, but at this point, she was hoping she would.

"I d-don't know!" Hermione sobbed, ripples of pain surging through her body at the contact. Bellatrix slammed the girls head back down on the concrete, pulling herself off of her in one swift motion. Her wand was at the ready, an unforgivable ready to fall from her lips, before a soft voice interrupted her.

"Bella…" This seemed to cause Bellatrix to hesitate, though she didn't lower her wand. "You're going to kill her."

"And why shouldn't I, Cissy?" Bellatrix huffed at her sister, not moving her gaze from Hermione's shaking body. Bellatrix's arm shook with fury; so much pent up anger that she could not release, all because the stupid little mudblood may have had information they needed. Narcissa came up behind her older sister, placing a gently hand on her forearm so that the witch lowered her wand. Had anybody else attempted to do such a thing, they would have lost their own arm. But Narcissa seemed to be able to calm Bellatrix in a way nobody else could, and for this, Hermione was grateful.

"Because then you'll never find out where he is." Narcissa pointed out, her voice soft and calming on Bellatrix's ear. The eldest Black took a shaky breath, knowing her sister was right. The only thing she had wanted in the whole world right now was to find Harry Potter, and to kill him. Yes, for hours, she had taken out her fury on the Gryffindor at her feet, so much so that the poor girl was drenched in her own blood, either from throwing it up, or from the open wound on her abdomen. But she needed more than that.

"Get out." Her voice was barely above a whisper. When nobody moved, Bellatrix howled, a sense of authority in her voice. "Get out!" She ordered, and the whole house shook with the intensity of her scream. Several 'pops' were heard throughout the room, and soon, it was just Bellatrix, Narcissa, and a sobbing Hermione, who was falling in and out of conscientious.

For a moment, there was silence.

Hermione was quite sure the pair had forgotten about her, as Bellatrix stared her sister down, an emotion Hermione didn't recognize in her eyes. Then, all too soon, Bellatrix had turned her attention back to the bleeding girl, her face stoic. Hermione braced herself for another curse, a kick, a snide comment, anything. But nothing came.

"Lucius!" The dark haired woman barked, causing Hermione to jump, followed by a small cry of pain. Through her tears, Hermione watched as the man entered the room. He looked so old. His once young, jesting face was replaced with that of a man who has seen too much. He looked tired; and it was as if his platinum blonde hair was graying. The man Hermione had perhaps found attractive once upon a time had become a man of great burdens, it looked like. He was broken. "Pick her up. Bring her upstairs." Bellatrix ordered, but the man didn't move.

Enraged at not being obeyed, Bellatrix glared at him, her eyes full of painful promises. Instead, Narcissa placed a loving hand on her husband's arm, a look of pleading in her eyes that begged him to appease Bellatrix for the time being. Defeated, the man stood above Hermione, looking down at her with empty eyes.

As soon as Lucius had enveloped Hermione in his strong arms, pain ripped through her body. She cried out loudly, sobs scratching at her throat as her stomach began to convulse, spilling blood out onto Lucius's robes. In another moment, she had black out, the last thing she heard being, "Goddamn mudblood."


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione hadn't woken up naturally; instead, it was the intense pounding in her head that drove the witch to awake with a start, and a small cry of pain. It seemed she had been doing a lot of that lately. The pain in her head had her seeing doubles as she attempted to sit up in the bed, and immediately, she decided that this was not the best course of action, so instead, she laid back down. It was then that she realized she was in a bed. Not the cold, hard, bloody floor she had been laying on for what seemed like centuries, but an actual bed, with pillows, and blankets, and sheets. For a split second, Hermione imagined that she was at home, surrounded by her soft duvet and the light sound of rain against her window. That all went away the moment she tried to move, and once she noticed that it actually was raining, the raindrops sounded like bullets more than anything. In fact, she had no idea where she was.

"Do you know where you are?" It was the first thing she'd been able to hear clearly, and the voice from which it came was almost ghost like. Hermione managed to turn her head ever so slightly to the source of the voice, and was greeted with the sight of Narcissa Malfoy, who looked as if she'd been slaving for days over a gruesome project. Gone was the groomed, elegant (though she still held the same persona as elegance, her appearance was ragged), clean image of Narcissa. Instead in her place was the image of a woman with decaying hair, which had been slipped up into a messy updo, pale skin that seemed to need desperate washing, and eyes heavy with exhaustion. Hermione then realized that she wasn't sure how long she'd been asleep, and wondered if it had been for as long a period as it had felt.

"How-how long-" Her voice was raspy, and Hermione felt the same sensation in it as she did in her leg when she sat on it for too long, it almost hurt to speak.

"You answer my question and I will answer yours." Narcissa curtly replied, and Hermione noticed a sense of urgency in the woman's voice, as if it were a very important question. Narcissa had every bit a bite as her older sister did, though Hermione knew from experience that she tended to have much more of a filter than Bellatrix. In response to the blonde's question, Hermione's eyes scanned the room in hopes of finding a clue on her whereabouts. The room itself was rather bland; all she could notice really was the grey, drab walls, and the few bits of furniture that scattered the room. Though still, it held a sort of regalness that most middle class families didn't. There were tiny details in the molding that made it rather exquisite, and she could feel the silk sheets beneath her back rubbing up against her wounds, almost soothing them.

"...I don't know." Hermione finally answered, her eyes falling back on the youngest Black sister in admission. This seemed to satisfy Narcissa, because she closed her eyes for a moment and breathed what Hermione heard to be a sigh of relief. Hermione wasn't quite sure that it mattered, anyhow. Even if she did know where she was, there was hardly a way she could communicate to anybody about it. Her wand had been lost during the battle, no doubt slumbering in two pieces at the bottom of a pile of rubble. Her assumptions about Narcissa were confirmed when she heard the woman mutter a 'good' under her breath. "How long have I-" The blonde witch cut her off, raising a hand in order to silence Hermione. Instantly the girl fell silent, afraid that if she were to step out of line, that even Narcissa would punish her.

"Only a few days." Narcissa answered quietly, watching the girl with an intense yet tired gaze. "It didn't take you long to settle down, not once the healing potion took its effect." She continued, and the words made Hermione furrow her brows in confusion. Healing potion? She doubted that she meant enough to Narcissa, let alone Bellatrix, who wanted her dead, for them to spring up a healing potion for her. So why were they trying to save her? Narcissa must have caught onto Hermione's train of thought, because she spoke up yet again. "It's a much longer story than I'd like to tell. Perhaps it is something you should ask Bellatrix."

That's when Hermione remembered that yes, of course-Bellatrix. A woman who was still apparently where Hermione was. What else was she to expect? She knew this was getting too good to be true. During her first moments of consciousness, she found herself a bit disappointed to find Narcissa rather than her older sister, but managed to convince herself it was because she had a much stronger desire to hurt Bellatrix than Narcissa.

Hermione felt a cool breeze wash over her body, and after a moment of confusion, it registered with Hermione that her entire body was bare. Well, for the most part. She cast her eyes down, and saw that what appeared to be linen bound around her breasts, but her stomach naked and revealed. Scar tissue lined the once smooth workings of her abdomen, and memories flooded back to the Gryffindor rapidly. Below the blankets, she could feel her bare legs pressed up against the silk sheets, but presumed that she had some sort of protection around her middle area, as she could feel the rubbing of cotton around it. Her light and soft skin bruised like a peach, black and blues covering small to large parts of her body all over. Though she had stopped bleeding and the scars were quickly beginning to form, the pain, while a bit more dull, was still very present in her body.

"You will be alright in a few days time." Narcissa answered Hermione's unspoken question. "If you cooperate, that is." She added coldly, though Hermione suspected it wasn't much of Narcissa's choice, anyhow. The young girl suddenly felt very naked and exposed with company in the room, and despite the aching in her arms, she wrapped them around her bare body as a means of protection. The pair stayed quiet for a moment; Hermione a bit too astounded at the mere thought of everything that had happened since the battle, and Narcissa probably awaiting further instruction on what to do with the girl. After a few moments of silence, and Hermione finally dropping her arms to her sides once more in painful defeat, there was a distinguishable 'pop' in the air, and Hermione's breath caught in her throat as Bellatrix's dark figure loomed over her, a predatory like gaze in her eyes.

"Miss me, mudblood?" She snarled, her usual distaste for all things dirty apparent in her voice. In response, Hermione said nothing, but instead cast her eyes down to her injured stomach in order to avoid eye contact. Bellatrix followed the girls gaze, and at the sight of the scarring flesh, her lips curled upward ever so slightly in a knowing smirk. "My my, little kitten, somebody really did a number on you, hadn't they?" She poked, her hand almost itching to reach out and trace the outline of the forming scar. Soon, Bellatrix trailed her eyes up the rest of Hermione's body, taking in the black and blues and bumps and cuts. Her gaze lingered on the fresh linen that bound the young girls breasts to her body, and at the feeling of prying eyes, Hermione's cheeks became powdered with a light blush. Bellatrix failed to notice this, and after a moment of observing, pushed Hermione's chin up with a finger in order to meet each other's gaze. "It's rude to ignore people. I suppose, had you been raised properly and in a clean environment, you would know that." She sneered.

Not wanting to give Bellatrix the upper hand, Hermione swallowed her fear and pain at the feeling of Bellatrix harshing pressing her finger into a particularly dark bruise on the underside of her chin. "Let me go." It was all she could muster through her teeth in order to keep from crying out, but even then, the dark witch could sense the slightest stutter in her voice. At the demand, Bellatrix threw her head back in a fit of wild laughter, which startled both Hermione and Narcissa. Of course; it was as ridiculous a request as asking the witch for a hot bath and a pair of silk pajamas to sleep in. Though at this point, Hermione was quite sure that Bellatrix would rather comply to that than setting her free.

"You daft little girl, why on earth would I want to do that?" Bellatrix inquired with a dark chuckle, releasing the girls face swiftly. Feeling ashamed and belittled, Hermione turned her face away as her cheeks once again flared up-but this time in shame. "Look at me when I'm speaking to you!" Bellatrix ordered, ready to once again clamp down on the young witch's face with her hands.

"Bella...remember what we spoke about." Narcissa interrupted, causing Bellatrix to falter in her movements and instead punch the headboard of the bed. The raven haired woman growled in anger at the harsh contact, pulling her hand away in order to run her fingers over the bruised knuckles. Bellatrix send a glare her sisters way, but Narcissa didn't seem to respond to it. All she could do was look back at Bellatrix with sad eyes, sad, tired eyes. Hermione watched as the eldest Black sister snapped her fingers, and before her own eyes, Narcissa Malfoy disappeared. Where to, Hermione wasn't sure, but she doubted it was anywhere far. At least she hoped it wasn't; Narcissa seemed to be the only one who kept the Gryffindor from getting slapped around.

"Now…" Bellatrix began, leaning over the side of the bed so that her breath was like fire against Hermione's cheek. It smelled of burning wood; perhaps with a hint of...honey? The scent clouded Hermione's nose one nostril at a time, filling her senses with the scent of Bellatrix Lestrange, a scent so distinguishable that Hermione was positive one could create their very own line of cologne with it. She allowed herself to take a deep breath through her nose, wanting to capture as much of it as possible, but not exactly positive as to why. "How about we have a little talk? Girl to girl?"


	3. Chapter 3

The Gryffindor had expected pain, so evidently she had her eyes shut tight as she felt Bellatrix's presence near her. It felt like years until the older woman spoke again, but her voice was not ice cold and earth shattering as Hermione had so often described it as. Instead, she spoke with what almost seemed like a soft voice; though it was raspy and clouded with something Hermione couldn't put her finger on. The sound of it sent a shiver down her spine, and it was clear on her face as she bit on her bottom lip to keep from making any unusual noises. "Now then..." Bellatrix began, a small smile playing at her lips as she stated Hermione down. "Cissy insists that you won't willingly give anything up at the wrath of my wand; not without me killing you. So I suppose she wanted me to take matters into a different perspective." She explained, her eyes alight with mischief. "Tell me, mud blood, what do you dream of at night?" It was a peculiar question. Certainly not one she expected to hear from the Death Eater; Hermione was almost quite certain that Bellatrix didn't even sleep. She must have lingered to long to answer, because Bellatrix's features twisted into a hateful scowl. "I expect you to answer to me!" She howled, grabbing Hermione's face in her hands roughly. The girl whimpered in pain, before nodding in obedience.

"R-Ron." It was the simplest answer Hermione could think of; and the least revealing about who she was as a person. Because the Gryffindor knew that the more Bellatrix knew about her, the more she had to use against her. Her answer caused Bellatrix to turn her nose up in disgust, and she released her face with a small slap. Hermione squealed at the contact, and the dark haired witch (with what seemed to be motherly instinct, surprisingly), reached out to the soothe the girls cheek with delicate fingers. Immediately, Bellatrix drew back with a flash of nostalgia in her eyes. It was small things like this that Hermione seemed to catch, probably because they were so out of ordinary for the Death Eater. In a moment of bravery, Hermione spoke up. "What do you dream of?" It was out of pure curiosity, and perhaps it wasn't one of the bright witch's brightest moments, but she could hardly control the part of her that yearned to know more about the witch in front of her. Because when there was a mystery before her, Hermione had to figure it out of course. Not because there was something about Bellatrix that drove Hermione crazy with longing. Not at all.

The question must have caught Bellatrix off guard, because for a moment she faltered in her witty comments. "The Weasel boy? I thought you were smarter than that." It was then that Bellatrix realized that she'd paid Hermione a compliment, and the fact sickened her. Hermione noticed it too, and her cheeks were powdered with a light pink blush. Bellatrix narrowed her eyes at the revelation, arching an eyebrow wickedly. "Though I shouldn't expect so much from a mudblood." She recovered quickly, putting on her infamous sneer as a means of disguise. But the compliment still lingered in the air, and Hermione was quite sure she felt something fluttering about in her stomach. It's the nerves, she told herself. It was silent for a few moments as Hermione's breathes got heavier from the anxiety building up in her body. She noticed that Bellatrix still failed to answer her question, but the sting from her light slap still lingered on her cheek, and she thought it best not to dwell on it. There had been a split moment where Hermione was sure the Death Eaters answer would have shocked her, she could tell from the flash in her eyes and the way the corners of her lips turned downwards in the slightest motion, but it was all gone too soon.

"What do you want from me?" Hermione asked, trying to keep the quiver out of her voice. But being as keen as she was, Bellatrix quickly picked up on the girls rising nerves, as if they weren't obvious beforehand. A shit eating grin spread across the woman's face, her eyes ablaze with the fire of destruction, causing Hermione to close her own to avoid making eye contact. But the dark witch had something in mind that was much worse than physical harm; at least as far as Bellatrix could tell. The only thing worse than pain was humiliation. There was something that awoke the chaos in Bellatrix about causing someone to feel smaller than her; something about the control she not only wanted, but needed to survive. While torture was great fun and highly amusing, nothing came close to the idea of degrading somebody in front of the whole world. Except this time, she didn't need the whole world. She knew perfectly well that Hermione would do just fine on her own; that making a fool out of herself would only disappoint one person: herself.

With that idea in mind, Bellatrix set herself to work. "Well you see, kitten," she began, and Hermione started to feel the woman's weight against her own body. "My dear sister says I've been much to rough with you." Bellatrix purred, her body hovering over Hermione's just the right amount as to not cause her any harm. The brunette squirmed under the woman; her face already beginning to develop into a shade of strawberry. Not to mention that she had little to no clothing on. "She supposed I should be a bit more...gentle." The last word was breathed rather than spoken, and Hermione had to hold her breath as Bellatrix raked a single finger down her collarbone at an incredibly slow pace, barely grazing the skin in the process. Bellatrix's plan was quite simple. Whether Hermione fancied girls or not, it didn't really matter. It was human nature to respond to such gentle touches and soft voices; and this was evident by the former Gryffindors facial expressions. If pain wasn't the way to get Hermione to reveal information, then Bellatrix, or rather Narcissa, was sure it was pleasure. Quite frankly, Bellatrix didn't believe her baby sister could stomach the very idea. But something told the older Black that if there was a chance Hermione Granger, of all people, did not fancy women a little bit, then Narcissa would not have suggested the very thing that was happening. Or maybe Hermione would have been enjoying it a bit less than she was at the moment.

Hermione wasn't quite sure what was happening. For the first moment, she was sure that whatever was happening, she did not want to be happening. Yes, she would have been lying if she said that she had not thought about moments like this. Not with Bellatrix, specifically, but with other women, yes. She'd be lying if she denied that one of these women had actually been her captors own sister, Narcissa Malfoy. And she'd be lying if she had said that she and Katie Bell hadn't snogged behind the Quidditch pitch after a Gryffindor victory during her sixth year at Hogwarts. But Hermione Granger wasn't a liar. She just didn't disclose the truth unless asked for it; which was hardly the case with Ron and Harry, who were much to involved with either trying to court Hermione or, well, live. So yes, in the first few moments, Hermione was quite sure she didn't want what was happening to be happening. But as Bellatrix's touch became impossibly lighter, the girl wasn't quite sure of anything anymore.

"Do you like that, mudblood?" The hated nickname sent a shiver down Hermione's back, and she shuddered at the thought of enjoying such a disgusting pet name. Her actions only confirmed Bellatrix's thoughts, and the Death Eater smirked. "Let's see how much more you're willing to speak, when it's almost impossible to..." Bellatrix breathed, and all of a sudden, her breath was once again hot against Hermione's cheek. In the most gentle manner she could muster, Bellatrix grazed her lips against Hermione's jaw bone, leaving soft air kisses in their path as she trailed up to her ear. Hermione was sure she was going to bite through her bottom lip as she struggled not to show any sign of pleasure or weakness, but she wasn't quite sure how long she could last. "Where is Harry Potter?" The dark with barely breathed, her lips resting lightly against the shell of Hermione's ear. After a moment of waiting, Bellatrix figured she needed a push, and lightly clenched her teeth around the girls earlobe, nipping at it lightly. A pool of heat began in Hermione's lower stomach at the sensation, and she was certain that her cheeks were about to set aflame at how terrible, yet amazing, she felt at the same time.

"I-I don't kno-oh!" The last syllable failed Hermione, and escaped as a small moan. This must have been one hundred times worse than torture. Hermione hated every minute of it. She hated that Bellatrix seemed to know what she was doing. She hated the way that every time she tried to open her eyes to try to escape the feeling, Bellatrix would be staring right back at her with her own, empty, emotionless ones. She hated that Bellatrix felt absolutely nothing during this moment, as far as she could tell. She hated the way her fingers lightly clutched at the silk sheets beneath her to keep from grabbing onto the woman on top of her. She hated how her vision was clouded with colors, of pinks and reds, and purples, and black. So much black. Waves and curls and locks of black. But most of all, she hated how she didn't hate it at all; and loved every single moment of it. And that Bellatrix knew.

The answer did not satisfy Bellatrix, that much Hermione expected. But she couldn't explain her disappointment as the woman just as quickly jumped off of her as she had on her. Unfortunately for Hermione, though in her opinion the entire endgame was rather unfortunate, Bellatrix hadn't yet removed her teeth from the girls ear. She ripped away from her at a frightening pace, and her sharp teeth harshly tore into the delicate skin of Hermione's ear. The muggleborn howled in pain, her hands immediately releasing the sheets and traveling to her left ear. Her entire body erupted in pain at the movement she was not yet ready to perform. The dark witch hovered over her with a scowl on her face, her eyes fixated on the blood that pooled from the girls ear out onto the sheets. She spat towards the ground, should she have gotten any of the rotten blood in her mouth. Hermione's sobs of pain could be heard throughout the entire area, Bellatrix was sure. With a 'pop' the Death Eater fled the room, furious, in search of her dear sister.


	4. Chapter 4

"She wasn't complying, Cissy!" Bellatrix hissed, her eyes ablaze with fury at the idea that her sister was upset with her for the new addition of injury to a one Hermione Granger. The pair of sisters stood opposite one another in a kitchen decorated with calm greys and blues, specks of gold catching their eyes as they desperately searched for something to distract their thoughts. "What was I supposed to do?" The elder sister added, folding her arms across her chest. Narcissa, on the other hand, stared at her sister with disbelief, shaking her head.

"Not bite her ear off, Bella!" The blonde scolded, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "She's not Rodolphus; she's a girl!" She spat, still not sure how her sister, one of the brightest witches of her year and amongst the Death Eaters, managed to do something so stupid. When the younger Black brought up the mention of Bellatrix's late husband, the raven haired woman rolled her eyes and scoffed. "The more blood she loses, the more information we lose!" Narcissa added knowingly, her voice growing dangerously quiet. Bellatrix finally felt the shift in her sisters mood and grew solemn, leaning back against the counter of the sink and staring down at the ground.

"And what if we don't find him? What if she doesn't know?" She asked, and for once, it was as if Narcissa had complete control over what Bellatrix did, as if Narcissa was going to call all the shots to this plan.

There was a silence.

"He took Draco. We have to find them." Narcissa replied, the paint evident in her voice, as well as the expression on her face. A mothers love for her son was something that could not be challenged, not in this world, not in any. Narcissa was determined to bring Draco back home, no matter what it took. And if that meant pumping Hermione for information, whatever method that may involve,she was willing to do it. Her last image of her son was his face as Harry Potter grabbed his arm before he disappeared, taking the platinum blonde teenager with him, a look of apology on his face. "She's my only hope, Bella." Bellatrix, aware of how important this was to her baby sister, glanced upwards, as if her eyes could see through the ceiling straight into the room where Hermione resided.

"He took Draco?" Both women were utterly surprised to hear Hermione's quiet, healing voice ringing through their ears. Narcissa physically jumped, her eyes coming down on Hermione as she slowly drifted in the doorway to the kitchen, staring at both women with a blanket wrapped around her body. She'd felt lightheaded and dizzy; admittedly she wasn't entirely ready for physical activity just yet, but she'd been awake for quite a few hours, and was getting rather antsy sitting in bed, waiting for her next punishment. Her eyes ran over Bellatrix, images of what had happened hours-days? Weeks?- ago projecting through her mind. The lightness of the woman's lips, her breath, Hermione's groans...then blood and pain, and Hermione's shrill scream sounding through the home.

"You're walking." Narcissa pointed out, ignoring the girls question. Bellatrix's eyes bore into the brunette's, a wicked smile growing on her lips as her eyes caught a glimpse of the forming scar on Hermione's ear. The Gryffindor simply nodded, too weak to say anything else as she stood before the pair, suddenly realizing that nobody had actually given her permission to get out of bed; and then wondering if she even needed it. From what she could put together, and from what she had heard of their conversation, Hermione seemed to be rather safe for the time being after Bellatrix's little stunt.

"He took Draco?" Hermione repeated, her curiosity getting the better of her. The question, though verbally unanswered, seemed to be addressed in the silence as Narcissa stared on at the young girl, her face stoic. Hermione could only imagine what Harry-and Ron, if he'd anything to do with his disappearance-had wanted with Draco; from what Hermione remembered, the blonde hadn't seem so very loyal to the Dark Lord in his last few moments, so she wasn't sure if Harry really had a motive. Or perhaps this was it. Or rather, Hermione was it. An eye for an eye; Hermione for Draco. She'd figured it was an even a trade as any; the Malfoy's had their son back, and Ron and Harry got Hermione back. From what she could tell, it seemed like a win-win situation to her. And then fell into place Bellatrix's role in the entire situation; her lord and master had been killed, and Hermione was her ticket to redemption. If Draco was never found, Hermione would be killed, and she was sure nobody would take as great a pleasure in performing the deed than Bellatrix herself.

"Yes, and if we don't get him back," Bellatrix began, advancing towards the girl who couldn't muster up the energy to try and escape, "it'll be your pretty little brains on the pavement." She breathed, back Hermione up against the doorframe with her piercing glare and low voice. If that was an indirect compliment, Bellatrix didn't notice, but Hermione certainly did, trying her best to ignore it. "So what are you going to do about it, hm?" The dark haired woman wondered aloud, quirking a dark brow as if she were challenging Hermione to keep silent about Harry's whereabouts.

"Bella…" Narcissa began, only to be silenced by a look from her sister. "Be careful. She is still healing." The blonde offered quietly, trying her best to make sure that her older sister didn't break what she considered a toy. The older woman snarled down at Hermione, taking a step back from her and turning away with a grunt. For what seemed like the thousandth time, Hermione was eternally grateful for the Malfoy's presence. Bellatrix had gotten a little to close a little too soon, and again Hermione felt herself being overwhelmed with thoughts and urges that she had tried very hard to repress. She was rewarded for her effort; neither woman commented on her approaching blush if they noticed it.

"Cissa, go on and tend to Lucius." Bellatrix ordered lightly, resting herself against the counter once again as her eyes began to burn into Hermione's. Narcissa looked at her sister curiously, unsure of what her demand meant. "Your husband is having a very hard time processing recent events. I suggest you go on and put your mouth to good use, if all you'll be doing here is ordering me around." Hermione could hardly believe that Bellatrix had had the gall to suggest such a thing, and by the look on Narcissa's face, Hermione assumed she wasn't to keen on the idea either. But Bellatrix was naturally rebellious in that way, and she stared down her sister, daring her to challenge her. Eventually, the blonde straightened her lips into a thin line, before snapping her fingers and disappearing. Once again, on a few too many occasions, Hermione was left alone with Bellatrix Lestrange.

For a few moments, nothing happened. The pair just stared at each other; Hermione unsure of what the older woman's next move was. But Bellatrix just stood still, her fingers wrapping around the edge of the marble countertop, and Hermione could hear the light 'tap' that her nails made as they drummed against the hard surface. The air was, in Hermione's opinion, thick with awkwardness and tension, though she supposed it had always been that way with Bellatrix Lestrange. But now there stood a large elephant in the room; Bellatrix had had her lips and hands on Hermione's body, and the brunette could not stop thinking about it no matter how hard she had tried. "What are you thinking about, mudblood?" The older woman cocked her head to the side, sending ringlets of onyx hair falling over her shoulder. And just like that, Hermione was convinced that Bellatrix could read minds. A devilish smirk that could only belong to the older witch rested on her lips, as if she knew every thought and every desire that seemed to swim through the Gryffindor's mind.

"Nothing." In a sense, it was true. A large part of Hermione constantly thought about nothing; the state of it and it's being, and its effect on the way she went about her day. Especially during times such as these, Hermione felt that occupying her mind with nothing was exactly what she needed; in the sense that if she felt thought of nothing, she felt nothing, including pain. And confusion, as she so did in this moment. On the other hand, the young woman's thoughts were filled with hot kisses and wet mouths, roaming hands traveling down, down, down...snapping herself out of her own mind, Hermione closed her eyes for a moment to catch up with the speed of her thoughts.

"That's quite a reaction to nothing." Bellatrix continued, knowing exactly what buttons to push and how to make Hermione squirm. And before Hermione knew, Bellatrix was again right in front of her. Unsure of how to react, the girl felt words being caught in her throat, unable to allow them to process due to the closeness of the pair. "I can see it, you know. You're not fooling anyone." Her voice was low and rather demanding, her eyes hooded by her lashes as she looked out between them, taking in Hermione's nervous and uncomfortable reaction. Hermione tried her best to formulate a response, to tell the woman to back off and that she didn't know what she was going on about. But then Bellatrix wrapped her thin fingers around the fabric of the blanket that hugged the young girl, sliding it off of her shoulders to reveal Hermione standing in an oversized t-shirt; Bellatrix was sure it belonged to Draco. The front was decorated in a green snake, supported by a silver background.

"I-I found it in a drawer." Hermione stuttered out the answer to a question that was never asked, not sure what else to say as Bellatrix examined it momentarily. A drawer that was otherwise empty, and for a moment upon discovering the article, Hermione had come to the conclusion that she was at some branch of the Malfoy-Black estates. To whom the home belonged to, she wasn't sure. And it wasn't like she had much of a chance at letting anybody know, even if she did figure it out.

And then, to Hermione's surprise, Bellatrix's hands were gentle on her waist. It was strange and new; consciously, Hermione hadn't felt a gentle touch at all since she'd been there; though she could only imagine that during her healing process, Narcissa was anything but aggressive with the girls wounds while she slept. What surprised her even more, though, was that the notion came from Bellatrix. Never had Hermione imagined that the woman was capable of touching something without breaking or bruising it, and yet her fingers tenderly wrapped around Hermione's waist as they tugged her closer to the raven haired woman. Hermione wasn't sure what to make of the gesture, so she just held her breath, waiting for the woman to either bark in her face or push her forcefully up against the doorframe.

Neither came.


End file.
